


stars wrapped in skin

by BadWolfGirl01



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: "convenience", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, BAMF Jyn Erso, F/M, Imperial Jyn Erso, Marriage of Convenience, Mother-Daughter Relationship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Propaganda, Strained Relationships, cassian is undercover at some point, for Jyn anyway, i blame you tasha, i promise this is rebelcaptain, jyn is a genius, let's give cassian MORE reasons to want to kill krennic, lyra and jyn don't really get along, the author unashamedly does what she wants with canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:48:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadWolfGirl01/pseuds/BadWolfGirl01
Summary: it is not Lyra who lies cold and dead on the dark Lah'mu soil, but her husband.denied his first choice, Krennic takes the next-best option: the late Galen Erso's equally-brilliant daughter.in the end, of course, he learns that no one can ever trulycontrolJyn Erso, and that she will make her own way in the galaxy...  no matter the cost.





	stars wrapped in skin

**Author's Note:**

> oof, starting a new WIP. this is a type of imperial Jyn i've never seen before, so i'm really excited to write it :D sorry about the brackets and lack of exclamation points: my laptop's keyboard is half broken right now and so i can't type parentheses or numbers or any of those symbols...
> 
> this is just a short introduction to get started. would love to hear back from you all.
> 
> _we are stars wrapped in skin--the light you are looking for has always been within_

“Stardust,” he says, soft and desperate, “it is time.”

The young girl nods, runs to fling her arms around his waist, closing her eyes and holding tight. His arms draw her close, a haven of safety and comfort--but only for a moment; he draws back, staring intently into a mirror image of his own green eyes.

“Do you remember the plan?” A nod is his only answer, and he presses on. There is no time to waste. “I love you, my Stardust. Remember that, no matter what happens. I love you and I am proud of you. Whatever may occur, these two things will never change.” He breathes in. “Do what you must to survive. May the Force be with you.” A pause, an exhale pregnant with all the things he wishes he could say but doesn’t have the time for, and he drops his voice lower. “What I do, I do to protect you. Say you understand,” he begs. 

Seeking absolution the only way he can.

“I understand.”

[She doesn’t understand, not yet. She  _ can’t. _ But she will, and that must be enough.]

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, rises slowly, steps out of the little house he built with his own two hands. There is a shuttle, sleek and shining, hunched in the field not far off, and from its belly come several figures all in black plastoid, blasters at the ready, in formation around a single man in pristine white.

It is time.

He steps into the tall grass, the damp seeping into his skin, dark Lah’mu dirt sticking to the soles of his boots, and stops not far from Orson Krennic.

“Hello,” he says, quiet, and he straightens his shoulders and stares into the other man’s face.

Krennic opens his mouth to speak, then pauses; a smirk slowly spreads across his face. “And here I thought I would have to…  _ convince _ you,” he says.

The older man does not return the smile.

He does not look back towards the house, where even now a tiny girl with dark braids and his own green eyes should be sneaking away from the door, through the grass towards the cave and the hatch within; he does not shift his eyes to where a woman with dark hair and brown eyes hides, a blaster tight in her hand. He does not think of the ship coming, alerted by his alarm, that will be too late to save him.

And most of all, he does not think of the datapads full of notes he left behind him on Coruscant, notes that Orson Krennic wants him to return to.

“You don’t need to convince me,” he says, still quiet, still soft. “I’ve already made my decision.”

A shark-sharp smile. “Have you now,” Krennic murmurs silkily, and by the look in the Director’s eyes the older man knows he’s succeeded.

“He has,” a strong female voice rings out.

He doesn’t turn, but Krennic does, surprise inscribed on his face. There is not enough time for the Imperial man to react, to signal the death trooper guard; the older man allows himself a smile as he breathes out.

He is ready.

“You will not take my husband,” the woman continues, calmly, edged with steel, and then a blaster screams, the sound followed by the  _ thunk _ of the bolt finding home in flesh.

Galen Erso falls to rest on the dark Lah’mu soil, a smile still on his face.

[The last thing he sees before eternal night is a pair of emerald green eyes, burning like stars.]

[=|=]

There’s a long silence, broken only by the small sound of Papa’s body hitting the ground.

“Lyra Erso, back from the dead,” the man in white finally says, but his voice wavers just a little and she thinks he’s… sad? Scared?

She doesn’t quite know.

[She is sad, and scared, somewhere inside her brain, and that’s  _ Papa _ there on the ground, Papa who spends his days teaching her algebra and history and biology--he can’t be…  _ dead] _

A muffled whimper slips past her lips, and suddenly she’s on her feet, running as fast as she can towards the cave--so fast she thinks her heart might burst in her chest--but she stayed too long. She shouldn’t have been watching, but--

[how could this have been Papa’s plan? He’d never said--]

[he  _ wouldn’t _ have said, she realizes with dawning horror, Papa wouldn’t have wanted to make her afraid, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to thinking of him in the past tense]

“They have a child. Find it,” the man in white’s voice echoes, and she runs faster, harder--

But she’s  _ slow, _ her legs are too  _ short, _ no match for the KX-series droid that catches her only halfway through the canyon and carries her, kicking and screaming, back to the field where Mama stands, surrounded by people all in bright black armor.

“You must be Jyn,” the man in white says, all oily and too-nice, and she wants to puke. “My name is Orson Krennic. Put her down, she’s not going anywhere--are you?”

She  _ wants _ to run, so badly it hurts, but she’s smart and she  _ knows _ how stupid it’d be to try to escape; so she just shakes her head mutely, lets the droid set her down inside the circle of soldiers.

She doesn’t look at Mama. She  _ can’t. _

[Papa is dead and it’s all Mama’s  _ fault.] _

“The Empire will take care of you, Jyn,” Krennic says, thick and unctuous, and his smile is slick with grease. “All you have to do is come with me.”

She hates it, that smile. It makes her  _ seethe _ , makes her want to  _ scream _ to the stars [not the Force, never the Force, the Force  _ abandoned _ her]. But it is better than looking at Mama and seeing Papa’s blood dripping from her fingertips. And Jyn is smart enough to know that even if she says no, Krennic will still take her. So she takes a deep breath and pushes away the screaming and the blood, and when she smiles there’s something cold and sharp and utterly  _ alien _ about it.

“I would love to make a deal with you, Orson Krennic,” she says, and stiffens her spine to durasteel when his eyes meet hers.

[She sees a truth reflected back from the older man’s eyes: they are two of a kind, she and he, and yet she is the smarter, the stronger, of the two; one day, he will not be able to cage her, and she will defeat him at his own game.

Jyn smiles just a little wider and prepares herself to wait.]


End file.
